


can feel the blood rushing through my veins

by sungyeowl



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, can be considered gen too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:33:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>Newt’s there, slumped on his bed; his knees are pulled to his chest and his hands are frantic, fingers moving restlessly while he tries to solve his Rubik’s cube. The one he has had for years but never learned the algorithms so he couldn’t solve it - the one he had a bad habit picking up when he was feeling practically moody, making himself even more upset in the process.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	can feel the blood rushing through my veins

**Author's Note:**

> so there it is, a Nalby!  
> not exactly what the anon cutie requested, but i explained it in the tumblr post [**here**](http://annatries.tumblr.com/post/108013411639/hey-there-i-really-love-your-writing-and-i-was), so i hope they like it anyway. at least a bit? haha, enjoy ^^  
>  i'm still open for ideas, if you've got requests, fire away!

 

The bags he loaded himself with almost slip out of his unsteady grasp when Alby tries to fish the keys out of his pocket without dropping anything. It’s difficult – but after a weird combination of using his elbow, his knee _and_ his forehead at the same time, the man manages to swing the door open and not damage anything in the process.

Alby would have whooped in victory if it weren’t for the eerie silence that seems to envelop him as soon as he steps into the tiny apartment. The area that’s actually a kitchen, but serves as the living room thanks to a couch and a tv set cramped in one corner, is dark – which isn’t that weird, because they always leave the curtains closed – but the darkness, paired up with the weird quietness makes a shiver run down Alby’s spine.

The man sighs deeply, because, of course he couldn’t possibly wish for a nice evening after such a long day.

Deciding not to dwell on it too much so he doesn’t dampen his mood, Alby moves slowly and sets the shopping bags carefully on the counter, debating for a moment if he should unpack right away; the atmosphere is so heavey, though, that he decides to deal with it first.

The walk towards the door he’s aiming for is agonizingly slow and never-ending, and Alby hesitates for a moment with his fist raised in mid-air. But then he sets his mind with (what he wishes is) finality and knocks a few times. Normally, he wouldn’t bother halting for an affirmation – but today, Alby waits patiently until he hears some kind of a grunt (which he hopes is an invitation).

“Hi,” he says as he enters the dark room, his eyes automatically searching for his friend.

Newt’s there, slumped on his bed; his knees are pulled to his chest and his hands are frantic, fingers moving restlessly while he tries to solve his Rubik’s cube. The one he has had for years but never learned the algorithms so he couldn’t solve it - the one he had a bad habit picking up when he was feeling practically moody, making himself even more upset in the process.

Which, obviously, he is now.

Alby restrains a sigh. If the ominous silence he was forcefully engrossed with earlier wasn’t the most apparent sign, this definitely is.

Newt doesn’t reply, just tosses the toy aside and lifts his hand delicately, his eyes squinted as he looks at Alby, somewhat expectantly.

Bracing himself for what might come, Alby carefully makes his way over to Newt’s narrow bed and sits down beside him, turning to the left so he’s facing the younger man. It’s still dark, but he can see the blonde’s face better now, without having to strain in any way.

Newt’s eyebrows are furrowed and he’s a little bit too pale; his hair is messed, as if he were pulling at it for some time before. A wave of worry washes over Alby, because he’s not used to not having a clue what could possibly happen – what could possibly be happening.

“What’s wrong?” Alby asks finally, itching to put a consoling hand on Newt’s shoulder, or something, but he’s not certain he can do it just yet.

Newt’s eyes dart back for a second, then a shaky breath escapes his lips. Suddenly he appears to be shaken and kind of fragile, and Alby seriously has no idea what to do.

“I bloody fucked up, that’s what happened,” Newt grumbles eventually, avoiding Alby’s eyes all of the sudden.

“What?”

“You remember the presentation I told ya about some time ago?” the question is quiet and hesitant, and there’s a ting of – guilt? to it and that’s precisely what makes Alby’s stomach drop in dread. There’s something wrong – something definitely off about how Newt’s acting; and, okay, he might be used to the blonde’s brooding or grumpiness (and if he’s to be honest, Alby isn’t really any better when it comes to abrupt bad mood swings), but there’s an underlying tone of seriousness this time. And Alby doesn’t know if he might be much of a help in that case.

“Yeah.”

“It was today.”

Those three words sound like a death sentence and this time Alby physically has to stop himself from scooting closer.

“And how did it go?” the question is a little bit more than a whisper when he asks it, his eyes never leaving Newt’s shadowed face.

“I forgot it was today, that’s how it bloody went,” Newt spits out furiously, head snapping back to the older man, eyes wide and wild with worry. “I bloody forgot, Albs. I came fucking unprepared and the professor was angry, and it counts like, fifty percents of the final grade? And how am I going to pass now, huh? I will lose the scholarship and I will have to drop out because it’s bloody expensive, and what will I do? What will I tell my par-“

Not being able to bear the upsetting atmosphere, Alby finally moves over and pulls Newt strongly closer, embracing him forcefully even when he feels the blonde going stiff, startled with the sudden contact.

The plan already settles in Alby’s mind – he’s gonna help Newt even if it means he will fail his own classes and if he has to, he will torment the lecturer until he lets Newt correct the mark, and he’s gonna make sure Newt passes so he doesn’t have to worry about his scholarship; he says it all quickly, his voice confident and strong. Newt goes sort of limp in his embrace, and if Alby feels tears soaking the neck of his shirt, he doesn’t say it out loud, instead whispering _don’t you worry_ s into Newt’s hair repeatedly, feeling the blonde’s hands grasping at his forearms, clumsily returning the hug. (And it’s more than enough for both of them to believe everything’s going to be fine.)


End file.
